To Be The Hero
by Fiona3210
Summary: Something new. It's a dark Hetalia story about America. No longer a one-shot. I don't own Hetailia. I also don't own the cover, because if I did, it would be hideous, unlike this.
1. Prolouge

To Be The Hero

They didn't know. They didn't know that he was actually extremely smart. They only knew the goofing off idiot. They didn't know that he only acted that way, to escape his life for at least a little while. They didn't know what he really was like. They didn't know that he wasn't actually afraid when he watched horror movies with others. They didn't know that he never turned on the TV when he was alone at home. Unbeknownst to them, he hid from it, afraid of what would show on it. He only turned it on if a guest wanted to see it. They didn't know why he always wore his jacket and gloves, even on the hottest days. They didn't know that he had scars on his wrists, from many attempts to fade away, just say goodbye for the last time. They only know the act.

They couldn't see. They couldn't see the sadness etched on his face as he walked out the door every morning. They couldn't see him walk into McDonalds, go in back, and pick up his uniform, so he could make at least enough to last him a day. They couldn't see him freezing, as he struggled to pay for heat. They couldn't see him starving, only seeing the pillow he wore underneath to fool them. They couldn't see how close he was to having to lose his house, barely scraping by. They couldn't see the tiredness in his eyes as he sat down at the meetings, having worked to exhaustion to even get a full-round plane ticket to get there. They just snapped at him for being late. They couldn't see the way his boss ignored him, pretending he didn't exist. They couldn't see the hurt that he felt. They couldn't see him cry. They couldn't see he was alone. They only saw lies.

They never knew why. They never knew why he invited people over. They never knew that it was because he could barely afford to drive up to his neighbor's, let alone get a plane ticket for overseas. They never knew why he loved hamburgers so much. They never knew that whenever they would glance away, he would quickly show the clerk his employee card, for an employee discount. They never knew why he never offered to pay for a meal, and never refused when someone else offered to pay. They thought it was rudeness. They never knew that he didn't have the money. They only knew skin deep.

They didn't understand. They didn't understand the struggles he went through as an individual, let alone a nation. They didn't understand him. They laughed at him. He didn't get mad. They didn't understand what it meant for him to be the Hero, after all. They were blind, not understanding, and unknowing. He liked it that way. He didn't want them to know, to understand, to see. But one day, someone saw. They came uninvited and saw. America's, Alfred's, secret was out. Someone finally knew, saw, and understood what it was like to be the Hero.

**Okay, kind of depressing... yeah. I wanted to write something for Hetalia, and America being one of my favs, became star of the story. I might make this a story, with this being the prolouge, if people want. Although if I do, people are definatly going to get OOC (out of character). So, um, yeah. Oh, for the record, Alfred is America's human name. Review Please! Happy Memorial Weekend!**


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It had started out as an ordinary winter day. Freezing would be a better word, actually. America had gotten out of bed, and tried to find his glasses. Unfortunately, this was easier said than done, because he could barely see without them when there was light, let alone complete darkness. After many attempts and much swearing from bumping into walls and doors such, a crunch met his ears. He quickly picked up the source of the noise, and found his glasses at last. With a rare bout of good luck, he had trampled the end of frame, and the glass was still intact. Happy that he could see, he found the warmest clothes he had, which might not have been that warm, since basically all his clothes besides his ancient US Army Air Force uniform and leather jacket were from thrift shops. Well, there was that, and the fact that he was still shaking like a leaf. With low hopes, he opened the mini-fridge that was in the corner. It didn't really surprise him to see that, besides half-drained jug of milk, it was empty. Sighing, he took a sip, and after finding his keys, he tossed on his dusty jacket and stepped outside. He regretted it within the first minute.

It was the kind of cold that made a person want to curl up in a blanket next to a roaring fire, with maybe a cup of hot chocolate. Of course, going back inside was probably retarded, considering that it was nearly as chilly in his house. With the comforting thought that it was probably warmer there, he began the long journey to McDonalds. After nearly ten minutes of walking, he finally arrived at the door. Inside, he was blessed with warmth that brought strength back to his freezing bones. He went in back to the kitchen, where he quickly spotted his boss. Not his actual boss, mind you, he was too cold-hearted. No, he meant his job's boss, who was kind and had some decency to her employees. Tapping her on the shoulder, she turned around and nodded hello, handing him a bag and a cup that was steaming, like she always did when winter came around. She mouthed the word _cashier_, and gestured to the empty one, before continuing to receive somebody's drive-thru order. America quickly changed in the bathroom. Starting from the moment he buttoned up his uniform that said Alfred F. Jones on the tag, America was Alfred, and shall be referred to as such.

Alfred walked back over to the counter and dropped the bag with his clothes by his feet. In the first few hours, there were a lot of people streaming in for a quick bite to eat before heading to work. But after rush hour had passed, fewer people came in. It was the same way every day.

"Hey Alfred, you going to the game?" Jonathon asked him, startling Alfred. He had been working on his report for the upcoming World Meeting. Of course, there wasn't really much in it yet. He had to stop by the library after work to get the information about Global Warming he needed, since his actual boss, not his job boss, hadn't told him anything, which might have stung just a little.

"Hm?" Alfred replied, slightly confused. Jonathon was about to tell him about it, when the door opened, surprising everyone and interrupting the many discussions taking place. It was a rare occasion when somebody came in at that time of day. The somebody in particular had extremely bushy eyebrows, green eyes, and was wearing a chocolate brown coat on top of a dark lime green Royal Air Force uniform. His name was England, or Arthur Kirkland. Arthur walked right up to Alfred.

"Bloody American's not having tea…" Arthur muttered under his breath. "Ah, well let's see, I guess a small hot cocoa is okay, _Alfred_," he said. Alfred worried that Arthur knew it was him, but decided that _maybe _he had just read his tag.

"Here or to go?" Alfred asked the British gentleman.

"Here," he said.

"That will be 2.51," Alfred replied. Arthur gave him $3 and told him to keep the change. Since there were no other customers, Arthur's drink was done in about a minute. He sat down and, to Alfred, seemed to be staring at Alfred.

"Hey, do you know that guy?" Jonathon whispered, pointing to Arthur.

"H-he looks like a friend of mine," Alfred whispered back, worry evident. Of course, it was a lie. No one else could have the same bushy eyebrows. The two continued to chat, forgetting about the British spy watching them. Arthur had finished his drink, but was still sitting there with a newspaper, pretending that there was still the warm liquid in his cup. Soon, Alfred's shift was over, and as much as he hated it, he had to go back outside. Back into the cold. He changed back, walked back outside, and was about to head home, when a hand landed on his shoulder. It was England's.

**Done. Okay, thanks for all the reviews, people. I swear I woke up this morning, and when checked my e-mail, I had over 10 e-mails about this story. So this must have potential. Sorry about leaving you guys in suspence. Um... oh yeah, for all you strangers Arthur=England, Alfred=America. They are the same people. I didn't come up with the human names, I don't who did and how they got the ideas. Oh. Dark Lime Green is a real color, in case your wondering. Look it up on Bing. Happy Memorial Weekend!**


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"So you work here, _America_?" England hissed into the younger nation's ear. America's eyes went wide in surprise, but he quickly switched to his 'Hero' act.

"Y-yeah," America replied, stuttering _just _a little bit. "So… what brings you to my country?" he inquired happily. The answer surprised him.

"The World Meeting. In case you forgot, you're hosting it." England replied coolly, taking his hand off of the American. Oops. America had completely forgotten about that part. Notes from earlier in hand, he quickly started off towards the library, with more reason than before. "You do know that it is rude to leave a person when they are speaking to you! Now where the bloody hell are you going?" the Brit asked, starting to get a little annoyed.

"…Library…" America muttered under his breath, slight blush on his face. This caused England to double over with laughter. America, go to a _library_? Get real here.

"Hah, wow I really needed that! Honestly, where are you heading?" he said, wiping away a tear. He didn't see the hurt look on his former colony's face. America thrust his hands into his pockets and looked down as he continued to walk away; he _hated _it when someone laughed at him because he went to a certain place.

"I mean it," he said, raising his voice, trying to make it so that the person he was talking to wouldn't suspect anything. "I'm going to the library." It was England's turn to be surprised. He gave a quick call of 'Wait up' and rushed up to America.

"Where's your car then? You can't honestly say that-" he started.

"I'm walking," America interrupted, speeding up. He didn't tell his former caretaker that he didn't have a car. It's why he liked to ask England if he could borrow his.

"-you're walking." he finished. Then America's words sunk in. "Are you crazy! It is bloody freezing out and you're walking. If this is some new dieting idea, I swear-"

"My car's in the shop, okay!" America snapped back. England didn't notice the way his voice wavered slightly as he lied. He stopped his sentence, probably trying to take in the idea that, for once, America had a logical reason to do something crazy. He pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the forming headache.

"I'll drive you there," he sighed out. America put on a confused look.

"What? Dude, I'll totally be fine, seriously you don't need to go through all that trouble." America said. He got _really _nervous when he had to go on car rides with the other nations. Not only did he worry about them finding out something he didn't want them to find out, but it usually ended up in unnecessary fights.

"I said I'll drive, you bloody git! You're damn lucky I have to go there anyway!" England said. This was actually true. He needed to do some research to finish up his report for the Meeting, but he certainly wasn't about to tell _that _to the bloody idiot he was talking to. Before any more protests could be made, he grabbed the younger nation by the wrist and practically threw him into the old vehicle before getting in himself. As he turned on the car, England decided that it was going to be a long day.

**Iggy doesn't know just how long, does he? Okay, fun facts: the three reasons I managed to stay awake while writing this: My cat, my Ipod, and Steve (see hetaoni). The one reason this makes sense: spell check. Hey, does know what type of car England drives, I can't find it anywhere. Happy Memorial Weekend!**


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The car ride couldn't have been more awkward if France was in the car. Okay, maybe that was an over-statement. "Your jeans are ripped," England commented, trying to find something to talk about.

"New fashion style," America responded. Actually, they hadn't had been nearly as ripped when he got them, but it was probably better to tell England that instead of the truth. No need to cry over spilled milk, right? As he played with one of the lose treads in his lap, he silently debated whether he should attempt to fix the jeans, or try and wear them as little as possible until it got warmer.

"I didn't think you were interested in that kind of stuff," England replied. He knew that the jeans weren't ripped on purpose. In fact, they looked like they had been ripped after falling down on gravely surfaces many times. The question was, why? It was a mystery, and the European nation was eager to solve it. But first he had to trick his suspect into admitting some of what happened.

"I'm into a lot of stuff you don't know about," America whispered, abandoning the thread and instead looking out the window at the familiar landscape sweeping by. Unfortunately for him, England caught his whisper.

"Oh? Like what? Besides those disgusting hamburgers of yours and coming up with bloody insane ideas that have never, and will never, work, I don't believe I know any of your other interests," England stated harshly.

"It's none of your business. Anyway, we're here," America commented, still staring out the window. England's original goal was to get America angry enough to just blurt it out, but so far it wasn't working. In fact, America was keeping an unusually level head. It was depressing, to be honest, and it caused England to wonder if there was something about wrong with America that the younger nation was hiding. England managed to find a parking spot, and watched his former charge as he got out of the car. America got out of the car and stretched; grateful he had avoided getting into any awkward discussions with his former guardian. What he didn't know was that the guardian in particular was watching him closely and picked up something weird about him.

"You lost weight," England commented, "too much weight." America forced a laugh at this statement; he had forgotten to put a pillow underneath his shirt, and now he was paying the price.

"So first I'm too fat, and now I'm too thin? Honestly Iggy, I think your old age is starting to affect your eyesight. I'm_ fine_," America joked good-naturedly. He made sure to roll his eyes as he emphasized 'fine'. England didn't have to know that he wasn't really fine, that it was just another lie. For the second time that day, America walked away from England, leaving the older of the two nations to catch up once again. Of course, once they stepped foot in the building, they had to refer to each other as Alfred and Arthur. Arthur walked into the warm building and tried to decide to figure out where Alfred was. He expected Alfred to be checking out some children's books, but there wasn't even a trace of him there. Arthur decided that instead of wasting his time looking for the bloody idiot, he should work on his report. Much to his surprise, when he found the reference, who should be sitting there, leaning against the bookcase, skimming through a book with a few others around him, than Alfred. Arthur thought for a moment in debate, before taking a seat next to him.

"You're actually doing research before the meeting? Who are you and where's the real Alfred?" Arthur taunted him. When Alfred didn't immediately respond, Arthur thought he had the wrong person, but a glance at the paper he was writing on while reading proved otherwise. It was titled **Global Warming **and underneath it, was Alfred's name. Arthur sighed and, deciding he wasn't going to get a good response, he picked up a book for _his _report. Arthur still had a lot of questions, but let it go, for now.

**Oooh, Alfred's in trouble. Arthur's started to figure things out! About the whole general reference to England's report topic, if you can give an idea for what it could be, I'll use it. Again Arthur=England, Alfred=America (so many A's in that sentance) Happy Memorial Weekend!**

**EDIT: I deleted the copy. Sorry about that. (grins sheepishly)**


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

After about an hour, Arthur had finally finished his report. Who would've thought it took so long to write the ending of a report on water based resources, especially with all of the rivers, lakes, and rainstorms he had in his home? Of course, Arthur was a _little _bit of a perfectionist so he _might_ have reread it over a million times looking for mistakes. He glanced over at Alfred's paper. Surprisingly, it was full of notes and –he couldn't believe he was saying this– intelligent thoughts. It was nothing like Alfred's usual messy handwriting and crazy ideas he always had. Arthur was trying to decide whether or not this was good. Sure, Alfred not stuffing his face with burgers and making sense was great, but Arthur felt more comfortable with the goofing off Alfred. Sighing, Arthur figured they had been there long enough and was more than ready to drop Alfred off at his place before heading home.

"Come on, it's time to go," Arthur said while roughly shaking his younger companion.

"Give me a sec, I'm almost done," Alfred hissed back. At this response, Arthur yanked the textbook out of Alfred's hands.

"You can borrow it," Arthur pointed out.

"I left my library card at home," Alfred replied. Well, that was a lie. He actually didn't have one to begin with. Alfred silently prayed that Arthur didn't know about using the phone numbers…

"Well, you can just tell the nice lady your number, idiot," Arthur smugly resolved. "Now come on, _some_ people want to be home before it's bloody dark out as well as freezing." Muttering under his breath about 'stupid British people', Alfred basically dragged himself over to the librarian. Personally, Alfred wouldn't have minded to stay a little longer, especially since it was warm and cozy in here.

"Card?" the dirty blonde librarian, Ella, her tag read, said offhandedly. She was so ready to pack it up and head home that she almost didn't register who she was talking to. Of course _maybe_ she was so eager to get home, because she _really _wanted to finish her Artemis Fowl book in peace. "Oh, hello Alfred." she stated in a friendlier tone of voice.

"You two know each other?" Arthur inquired. Alfred gave a nervous laugh rubbed the back of his neck.

"Heh, yeah, long story. Let's just say that I come here more often than you think." Alfred shyly admitted to his former guardian.

"I still say that that only gives you more reason to get a library card," Ella commented. Arthur was surprised, to say the least. If Ella hadn't said anything, Arthur would've fully believed that Alfred had a library card. If he could lie so thoroughly about something that small, then maybe… no, Arthur was just getting ahead of himself.

"Let's go," Arthur said. Alfred replied with a 'What?' which annoyed the tired Brit. "I said, let's bloody go!" Arthur put down the book and steered his companion out the door. The companion gave Ella a wave goodbye over his shoulder and mouthed _hold it_. Luckily, Ella reads lips as well as books, and placed the textbook under the counter for when Alfred came back. By that time, though, Alfred and Arthur had already left the building.

"So where the bloody hell do you live, you bloody git?" The extremely ticked off England asked. America gave the elder nation his address. England him a confused look. "That's exactly where I'm staying," he said quietly.

**Oh, America's screwed. England's staying at his place. Anyway, in case anyone is wondering, it's actually possible for America to not be loud and jumpy. I forgot when I started this fic, but when I was watching the Hetalia episodes again to remember England's accent a little better, I stumbled across episode 8 of Beautiful World. Surprisingly, when America is helping Estonia find the culprit America is actually pretty calm and quiet. It's also proven that he is at least smart when it comes to the field of technology. If you don't believe me, watch the subtitled version yourself (did they even dub Beautiful World yet?). I was even shocked at his behavior. I'd like to thank silverheartlugia2000 coming up with Iggy's report idea (gives hug). Before I go, I have to tell you guys something. My Immortal by Evanscence is totally Iggy's song, Exodus by Evanscence and Behind These Hazel Eyes by Kelly Clarkson Amerca's songs, and Invisible by (I don't know) Canada's song. I swear I think of them whenever I listen to one of those songs. Happy Memorial Day!**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"W-what? Are-are you sure about th-that?" America asked, stuttering from shock. If England stayed over, heck, if England even entered his house, America was screwed. America didn't know this, but England had already started to try to figure things out since he had first seen America that morning.

"Yes, America, I'm positive. Your boss was-" before England could finish the sentence, America cut him off with a loud growl and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'at least that jerk can do one thing'. "_Excuse_ me?" England asked; that was not the response he was expecting. He must have misheard, right?

"Never mind," America said quietly. He also sounded a little grumpy, the island nation observed.

"Ah, but I DO mind," England retaliated. This was his chance to get some information. Finally! England had been waiting for a chance like that all day!

"Well you shouldn't! It's just-" America cut himself off. He gave an exasperated sigh when he realized what he was about to say. "It's nothing," he stated, shaking his head. Nothing was going right for him today, was it?

"Then why are you getting so worked up about it if it really is nothing?" England contradicted. America was sure to get upset now. Whenever someone, usually England, contradicted him at the meetings, he would practically get into a shouting match with them. He was expecting to see an America that was fuming with rage when he glanced over. What he got was an America who had his head down and was clutching a knee to his chest.

"Dude, I'm not mad or anything," America said. Silently he added_ I just don't want to talk about this_. "Are we there yet?" he asked, changing the subject. England sighed, America's damn head was too bloody level!

"Yes, we are here," England answered in a calm, if slightly annoyed, voice. Why wouldn't the bloody git get annoyed like always? Although he had been suspiciously quiet since he had heard that England was staying with him…

"Give me a sec to open the door…" America said sullenly. He was upset at the fact that England was staying with him. He knew that the next time the Brit got drunk his secret would probably be out. And all because of that jerk of a president! America mentally got prepared for England's reaction to his small apartment. "Welcome to my house," he said half-heartedly.

"Thanks," the ever polite gentleman England replied. As he walked in, he glanced at America's face. A frown was etched onto it, which confused the island nation. Although he understood the instant he walked through the door.

**(dodges book). Okay, sorry that I didn't bring Iggy into the house yet. I don't have much to say. America's freaking depressed and I might be slower on updates now (2 days max, probably). Again, sorry. But next time, Iggy will go in, I promise! Just don't throw any more books at me!(person who threw books complains) Shut up! Do you want Iggy or not? (person nods and walks away) Okay, I got annoying party pooper to leave. See you soon!**


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

It was cold, England noted. Terribly cold. Almost as cold outside as it was in the building. What was wrong with the heating?

"Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?" England commented. America just sighed.

"If you don't want to stay here, get a room at a hotel," America simply stated, putting his former guardian's luggage down. While the idea seemed appealing, England was all the more determined to discover just what was going on. And to do that, he needed to be _here_. Although what surprised him was the cleanness of _here_. It was actually pretty tidy, no fast-food or candy wrappers or anything, like England was expecting from the younger nation.

"Oh no, I wasn't complaining, merely… " England searched for the right word, "commenting," he came up with.

"Whatever," America said bluntly. England watched with curiosity as America split some loose change between two jars. Two of three, actually. One said **Bills**, the next said **Groceries**, and the third **Ticket**. America took the cash in **Ticket** and split it between the others. He picked up the **Groceries **jar and turned to look at England again. Handing the jar to England, America said "If you want to buy some food or something, here. Just don't waste it, please." It was then did England see the bags America had under each eye. America began to walk away.

"Where're you going?" England asked him. America gave him the most exhausted look the Brit had ever seen.

"Bed. I can sleep on the couch if you want the bed," America said. He gave a small yawn and headed for what England now presumed to be the bedroom. A couple of minutes later and the tired nation came out holding one of the two pillows in the house. The only difference from before and after was that America was wearing slightly more comfortable clothes. He hadn't even bothered to take off his bombers jacket and gloves. America saw England observing him, but he honestly couldn't care less. He was freaking exhausted and England already knew, why lie when his someone already knew. Although maybe he could have been a smidge more patient. Either way, he still lied down on the couch and closed his eyes.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" the gentleman inquired. Neither of them had eaten since that morning, and England was famished.

"Again, if you want something to eat, go and buy it," America said gesturing to the door. "If you want me to eat, I will, but first you need to get whatever that is." England was shocked at this reaction. Surely he had something in the house? England quickly checked through the few cabinets and the mini-fridge. Nothing. Well, nothing besides a half-drained jug of milk.

"What did you eat for breakfast, then? Surely you didn't eat nothing," England said, concerned. There was no sign of any sort of food that he could have eaten earlier in the day.

"I didn't have 'nothing'," America started. England breathed out a sigh of relief. "I had a sip of milk," he finished.

"You had a sip of milk?" England asked, barely holding back his anger. At his former colony's nod, England went wild on him. "You bloody wanker! Are you trying to freaking starve yourself to death? Honestly-" England's rant was abruptly brought to a halt by a low moan, courtesy of America.

"Iggy? Can you rant to me in the morning? I'm too tired to listen right now," America yawned out. 'Iggy' wanted to comment, tell him not to call him that name, but found he couldn't. What America said… the way he said it… England decided to let him go. He was still mad, but decided it was too late in the night to lecture him anyway. Sighing lightly, England finally put the jar America had given him earlier down. He walked back outside; there was definitely a convenience store still open at this ungodly hour, right? An hour later, England was back with a couple of bags. He placed them on the counter and walked over to the now sleeping nation. America was shivering slightly and had left his glasses on. England gently removed 'Texas' and placed his warmer jacket on top of America. Though still surprised at what happened earlier that day, the British gentleman soon found himself fast asleep in America's bed.

**Texas is America's glasses. So, suprised about the second chapter? I felt I had to make up for the shortness of the previous one. Lucky for all of you, you get to see Iggy in Alfie's home! Dang America, you must be tired. Goodbye!**


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

America awoke to the smell of food. Well, sort of. Whatever he smelled smelled edible. Well he must have been imagining it. There certainly wasn't anything there yesterday, and he hadn't had the chance to get something with England- wait England? America snapped to full awareness when he remembered that _England was in his house_!

"Ah, seems you're finally awake," England, or so America assumed, said. "You've practically been comatose for the past 12 hours." 12 hours…

"I'm gonna be late!" America got up quickly. Unfortunately, he got up so quickly that a sickening _CRUNCH _was heard. It sounded like glass shattered. America immediately whipped up his now broken glasses. He had broken Texas! With that horrible thought in mind, America sat back down, ready for a lecture of some sort for not picking up the broken glass or some other silly thing from England.

"Well that's misfortunate," England commented. He felt so stupid for putting America's glasses there. "I guess we'll have to get you another pair." At America's firm shake _no, _England decided to revise. "We have to replace the glass, at least." Truth be told, England was devising a scheme to temporarily replace the twisted pair with a straight set of glasses. Of course, that would only be until he managed to fix the mutilated frame. It looked like America had trampled it many times before.

"Fine, but I'm gonna hang on to these, just so that there is no chance of me losing them," America said, surprising England. Another idea popped into his mind.

"Well alright, but you do know that I'm more responsible, right?" America rolled his eyes. "Anyways, I cooked, so go wash your hands." As he got up, America had a light bulb moment.

"That's right! I totally forgot I had some extra glass in the cabinet!" America exclaimed with a light chuckle. "I'll be right back!" He quickly rushed into the bathroom. As he took off his gloves to replace the glass, he realized something. If he went back without gloves, England was sure to see the several scars imprinted on his wrists. Most of them were old, about the Great Depression, but there were some new ones from more recent times. America reached for where he put the gauze, but empty air met his hands. Confused, he stepped backwards. Right into England.

"Hmm. I see you've noticed I've gotten rid of that dreaded old gauze. It was probably dirty enough to give whoever wore it an infection, but you probably didn't know that," England said. He looked the taller nation in the eye. Or tried to, anyway. The younger nation seemed to be very interested in the floor as he stepped backwards to the sink, where his glasses and gloves were. America fumbled with his gloves for a minute before putting his much-needed glasses back on. With that task done, America looked England in the eye, but despite his air of confidence, his voice wavered as he spoke.

"I already knew." America's stomach gave a growl and he clenched it. "Can we eat now?" he asked pathetically. He walked past the Brit without waiting for a response, and England followed suit. Although whatever England cooked turned out nasty, America's empty stomach more than welcomed its first meal in… how long? Maybe America _was _starving himself. "I'm going to the library, wanna come?" he asked the island nation, who was reading a book on the couch.

"No," the Brit bluntly said. He was enjoying his book to much to want to go outside.

"Oh… well 'bye!" America called as he stepped outside. England chuckled to himself, he had some investigating to do.

**Done, finally! I had such a different idea for this chapter than what I wrote. This was originally going to be all about 'Texas. At least it got to have some importance. Masaki, Califonia is America's left arm, because California is on the west coast, and west on a compus rose is on the left. It took some serious thinking, so be grateful! See you soon!**


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Where to look?" England asked himself. "What am I even bloody looking for? I don't see why it should matter to me if the bloody idiot kills himself…" England muttered under his breath. He heaved himself off the couch with a sigh, why did this always happen to him in particular? "Does Germany have to worry about Italy's health? Well, besides when Romano comes over, no. Does Spain ever have to worry about Romano? No. Yet I end up worrying about America. Speaking of the idiot, what happened to him?" England had searched the entire house spick and spam and had found nothing, which might have been because there was hardly anything in there. The tiny apartment had nothing that seemed suspicious. And when he said tiny, he meant _tiny_. The apartment was only a bedroom, a bathroom, and the entrance room, which served as both the living room and the kitchen. Finding nothing helping him to find the answer, England sat back down on the couch, slightly flustered. He read some more chapters in his book, and was getting to the good part, when England's cell rang. Annoyed, England answered it.

"…Hello…" An almost silent voice said over the speaker. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, like somebody England had forgotten. "It's Canada, America's brother." Ah of course! Canadia! How could he have forgotten? "Is America… there?" Canadia asked.

"No, the bloody git went to the library," England said, annoyed.

"What did he do this time?" Canadia asked with a small laugh. England was taken aback.

"I-I don't know! It's just that he's so different…" England began. After a moments battle, he decided to trust Canadia. He should already know because their brothers, right? So England explained exactly what had happened since seeing America yesterday at McDonalds. Silence was heard on the other end for a second before Canadia tenderly replied.

"I… I knew things were going badly for him, with his boss thinking that he wasn't a real person and all… but this… This is serious now."

"Agreed," The Brit replied. _Now_ he knew why America didn't want to talk about his boss. England would get upset as well if his boss suddenly said he was crazy or not real like what had happened there. "Canadia-" he started.

"Canada," a whisper said.

"Canada," England corrected, "How long ago did this all start?" England asked the question laced with concern, he was secretly nervous to know the answer, though.

"I… I don't know. Could be 27 years, could be 15 years, it could even be 3 years ago. All it takes is…" Canada mumbled the last part of the sentence, but England took a guess. _All it takes is one person to set off the bomb, _England guessed. The wording was different, Canada's being _All it takes is one person to burn the pancakes, _but their meaning was the same.

"Oh bollocks, that could be a problem," England grumbled, but not to Canada. On Canada's end, it sounded like a fight had broken out, with cries of "Give that back!" and "Stop!" being heard. After ten minutes of patient waiting, the noise stopped. "Alright, alright! I'll put it on bloody speaker, you git!" England yelled.

"Umm… who am I talking to?" the recently arrived America, the source of the fight, asked. Unsurprisingly, England face-palmed.

"You don't even- Ah never mind. It's your brother," England told him.

"Oh! Hey bro what's up?" America called.

"America, we need to talk," Canada said. The house was silent.

**Canada's here! Hooray! I swear I had to make Iggy mess up his name, it was such an easy shot that it was too good to miss. I'm gonna reply to a couple of reviews now, so you can just skip this. Strawberry, don't worry about me being like whoever wrote that story. If I run out of ideas, I'll ask you guys. MadMental, I actually don't know who the president is in the story. This is either modern times, or slight past or future times. Silverheart, was the fic called Roses Of Red, White, and Blue? I recently read that and it mentions Washington is his shoulder. Anybody who wants to give these poor people hugs (See: Silverheart) can. See you soon!**


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Look, bro, if you're still mad about that whole 'catch' thing, I'm sorry. Honestly, how many times do I have to say it?" America apologized. England was rather shocked to say the least.

"Umm… What 'catch' thing?" England questioned. America rubbed the back of his neck, at trait he did when he felt nervous about something.

"Well, you see, me and Canadia-" America started.

"_Canada_ and I," England corrected. It's bad enough that the fool butchered his language, but at least he could try to speak proper!

"Whatever. Anyway, we were playing a game of catch," America finished.

"And?" England interrogated, arms crossed and bushy eyebrow raised.

"And America hit me with the ball, in a _very _sensitive area," Canada finished. A loud slapping noise was heard accompanied by several curses courtesy of both nations on the other side. After the new fight had died down, Canada decided to speak. "And… that didn't even have anything to do with what I wanted to talk about."

"What is it then?" America asked.

"What exactly have you been doing these past years?" Canada indirectly answered. America stayed silent.

"Answer the question, lad," England ordered. America studied the floor. Canada spoke up instead.

"Hold on," the sound of footsteps, "I'll be," slight panting, "right," noise outside the door, "there." The door opened to reveal a Canadian who was holding a plate of pancakes with chocolate chips in them in one hand, and a jug of maple syrup in the other.

"What the bloody hell Canada! When did you get here?" England yelled at the figure.

"Yesterday," the maple syrup lover replied. He glanced at his brother to see a look of pure shock on his face.

"W-what?" America stuttered out. Canada smiled a little and handed him the pancakes. When he didn't immediately immerse himself in them, Canada started to worry.

"There my special recipe," Canada whispered into his ear. When America still didn't devour them, Canada's heart clenched with worry. America always ate his pancakes and more often than not asked for seconds afterwards.

"Thanks, but… I'm not hungry. You want some Iggy?" America offered. Canada couldn't believe what he was hearing. America _does_ _not want his pancakes_? Something must really be wrong.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that name! And I don't not want _your _pancakes, thank you very much, I already ate," England snapped. The 'I already ate' was a lie, but two people could play that game. Besides, he had managed to see the hurt look on Canada's face, and if he had to force feed the pancakes to America, God knows he will.

"Why… why don't you like them?" Canada whispered. America looked up and saw the look on his brother's face. Reluctantly, America ate the pancakes. He pretended that they made him feel better, although honestly, America hadn't felt that way about pretty much anything in ages. But maybe it made him feel a bit more… contented to see Canada's face light up as he ate.

"Thank you," America mumbled after finishing the plate.

"So?" England asked. Now that the pancake issue was over, he wanted to get back to Canada's question. Well the one before the pancake issue, not the one he just asked.

"So what?" America asked, confused. He sat for a moment in thought before realizing what England meant. "Nothing has really happened. Well, nothing good anyway…" America grumbled the last part out, so quiet that the other two nations almost didn't hear it.

"Then tell us about the bad part," Canada said, simple smile on his face again.

"Tomorrow," America promised.

"Well, I can stay…" Canada suggested.

"Canada, bro, this place is meant for only one person, and it was a real pain to fit Iggy in last night. Trust me; I ended up sleeping on the couch…" America argued. He wanted Canada to stay, don't get him wrong, but this place was just _too small_!

"Oh. Bye!" Canada said as he left. He walked back to his room in the hotel where the other nations were staying. Canada wanted to tell the others, but the thought of how America would react stopped him. Although it was hard to convince himself not to, even with that thought in mind.

"I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight," England declared back the apartment. When he saw his former colony's confused face, he explained. "It's your own bloody bed, so go to it." Not the best explanation in history, but America understood it well enough. America managed to fall asleep with a tiny smile on his face.

**Raise your hand if you remember the 'catch' incedent from ep. 1 of Axis Powers. Okay, I'm so sorry that it took so long to update! There isn't anything else I have to say besides, I WILL NOT BE ABLE TO UPDATE ON SATURDAY. It's just a one-time thing (Hopefully), and I wanted to let you all know so you don't get upset at me. Thank you and See You Soon!**


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The smile didn't last. America had a nightmare –a very familiar one, but a nightmare all the same.

…

_"Hello boss!" America said, patting the new president on the shoulder._

_"Oh? Who are you?" The president asked America, surprised._

_"I'm the US of A, but you can call me America." America introduced. The president burst out in laughter. When he didn't hear America laughing too, he sobered up._

_"You're serious?" The president interrogated the nation. America nodded. "I haven't even been here for a day, and I'm already meeting crazy people."_

_"Dude, I'm not crazy. I'm like the… what does Iggy call us? Oh yeah, I'm like the USA's nation persona," America tried to explain. The president gave him a look that clearly stated 'you are crazy'._

_"They don't exist," The president simply stated. America bit his lip, Heroes don't cry! "Please tell me that this is just some elaborate joke." When America stayed silent, the president finally got fed up with the game. "Security, please take this insane person to the nearest mental ward," he ordered. America felt the cold metal bite into his wrist…_

…

"S-stop…." England heard America murmur. The younger nation was thrashing about and crying and screaming and everything. In fact, that was the reason England was up in the first place was because America's screams had jolted him awake.

"Get up, you bloody git!" he whispered loudly, trying to smack him awake. America stayed asleep. England decided that maybe now would be the best time to call… Canada, was it? Ah, yes, Canada. England decided that maybe now would be the best time to call Canada over. Maybe he could make some pancakes…

…

_They were taunting him. No matter which way he turned, there they were. Even his own brother! Tears were stinging his eyes, and he just wanted to sit down and cry, but he couldn't._

_"S-stop…" America choked out._

_"Why should we, you bloody git!" England roared, slapping him. America spun around 180 so he was facing China. Another slap awaited him._

_"You owe me-aru!" China spat at him. After that, everything became a blur of insults and pain. Everything hurt, even the simple act of breathing caused pain. Why wouldn't they stop! Wasn't this enough! An eternity later, America was standing face-to-face with someone who looked exactly like him, except his hair was wavy. It was Canada. America couldn't tell who had shoved him- was it Italy? Or was it Japan? America couldn't tell anymore. Canada opened his mouth to speak._

_"Don't… p-p-please… d-don't," America begged. He was beyond caring; he just couldn't take it if his own brother joined in. Everyone else, okay. But his brother… no._

_"You're stupid too," was all Canada said, but it was enough. America sunk to the floor, tears flowing freely down his cheeks._

_"Why?" he whispered. "Why do you do this?" What did he do to deserve this torture? The other nations didn't respond, like America expected. They never did. Everyone faded, until the only people left were America, Canada, and England. The only noise was the pitiful and pathetic sobs from America._

_"I remember when you were so strong…" America couldn't tell who said that. Maybe he said it to himself. Either way, it hurt to have those words shoved back into his face. _

_ "Wake up!" somebody shouted at him. _

_"G-go a-away!" America cried. Canada and England faded, leaving America alone. Again. He was always alone. No one bothered to help him. No one was there to comfort him as endless tears flowed down his face…_

…

"Wake up!" England shouted. What was taking Canada so long? As if on cue, said nation walked through the door, once again with pancakes and maple syrup. Of course, the pancakes and maple syrup were in the other room at that moment, but eh.

"What's… what's the matter?" Canada asked the Brit. England gestured to the now trembling figure.

"I don't bloody know! You explain this!" England hissed out. Canada had a very strong urge to face palm at that moment.

"You raised him, and you don't know when he has a nightmare!" Canada replied.

"I… I wasn't exactly around that much…" England shamefully admitted.

"No wonder…" Canada whispered to nobody. Canada shook America gently. "C'mon, get up," he said quietly.

"G-go a-away…" America said. Canada smiled a little to himself.

"I'm not gonna leave you," Canada soothed. England watched on as the scene played before him…

…

_Canada faded back into view. Instead of the look of anger from before, his face had a mask of sympathy on._

_"I'm not gonna leave you," Canada said._

_"Y-you m-m-mean it-t?" America stuttered. Canada nodded. A new face faded into view. America had trouble placing exactly whose face it was though…_

_" Wake up, please," the voice said. It sounded a little British. America listened…_

…

America finally awoke. He was a little startled for a second to see Canada and England hovering over him, but quickly brushed it off.

"That was some nightmare," England commented. America felt a slight blush. Canada noticed this and hurried to help cover it up.

"Uh… I made pancakes. We… we should probably eat… we do have a long day in front of us…" Canada said awkwardly, changing the subject.

"Um… what's today?" The ever forgetful America asked.

"World Meeting, chap," England replied. America paled.

**That took some time... eh he he... Anyway... again sorry about Saturday. Um... oh! Marzy704, thanks for the compliment and I totally understand what you mean by longer chapters. I was wondering... can I use your idea for the World Meeting please? I don't want to steal it or anything... See you all soon!**


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"What!" America shouted. "You're not serious, are you?"

"I'm positive. Although I do wonder how in the world you forget about stuff like that," England commented as two of the trio sat down, America now in his uniform and bomber jacket.

"Well I was a little busy…" America trailed off as he rubbed the back of his neck. His hand felt a little weird. Kind of like there wasn't a glove on it. But that was impossible; he always kept his gloves on in front of company. America glanced down at his other hand, which was under the table, for a second. It was bare. A couple of profane words entered his mind at this realization, but America kept silent and waited for them to comment first.

"So… what was your dream about, eh?" Canada asked as he joined them at the small table.

"Huh?" America replied, caught off guard. "Why do you want to know?"

"Sometimes dreams sort of telling you how you feel about something," Canada answered. America played with his pancakes.

"Oh. It was nothing important," America answered. He didn't look up. If he looked them in the eye, they would know that he was lying. But why did he always have that nightmare! Although America got off lucky with Canada and England waking him up. If they hadn't… America wanted to shudder at the memory imprinted in his mind, from seeing what came next so many times.

"It was important enough to wake me the bloody hell up. I want to hear about it," England said, not sensing the mood. "And it's either you tell us about that, or you tell us about what you've been doing recently."

"It was just a bad memory," America told him. He wasn't lying; the beginning always started out with that memory. All he was doing was not telling the full truth; that wasn't lying! Of course, what happened after the memory was the part that always got to him the most.

"What happened after the memory, eh?" Canada inquired, genuinely curious. America wondered how Canada always seemed to know when America was lying. Maybe it had something to do with being twins.

"It's stupid," America muttered. He didn't want them to laugh at him, not again!

"Please?" Canada asked. Oh god. America _knew _that he had that look on. Maybe he shouldn't have taught him how to do that… look. America sighed, knowing he wasn't getting out of this topic. But how to explain it?

"Well… there was a room… and…umm…" America trailed off, struggling to find the right words to describe what had happened.

"And?" England interrogated. He was all set to hear about the thing that had woke him up.

"And… all of you guys were there… and… and…" America felt the tears rising as he explained. He choked the next words out. "You guys were all… all laughing and… and you… you were all teasing and I can freaking feel where you all were..." the tears started falling as America muttered out the end of the sentence. "And I-I kept on asking you t-to st-top, but you wouldn't. A-and you all just left, you know? J-just left." America pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them as tight as he possibly could. England and Canada were left in shock. They stared at the crying form in front of them. The only thing that the form was thinking was that they know. They wanted to know and they learned.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't know…" Canada quietly apologized. He hated it when his brother cried, and felt especially bad when he was the cause.

"Ah, damn it. It's time to go. Come on, if were gonna be on time, we best be off," England said. Although actually he wouldn't have minded staying here. He walked outside to start the car as America stood up and wiped away the tears stinging his eyes. As the North American twins walked out to join the elder nation, neither realized the pair of black gloves sitting on the counter, forgotten by their owner, America.

**Oh my gosh, finally done with the chapter! Huzzah! This one took forever. I don't have much to say, actually. Marzy, I don't have a schedule. Um... See you all soon!**


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

The car ride was anything but exciting. Most of it was spent in silence, with a few small snippets of conversation between England and Canada, the latter of the two happy that he was actually being remembered for once. It was a big milestone for Canada. Again, not much happened in the car. It's what happened when they got there did all the trouble start.

"Damn it, we're already five minutes late," England said, looking at the watch that was hidden by his jacket sleeve. "Come on, hurry up."

"Coming, _mom_," America teased. Canada and England walked inside the tall office building. They assumed that America was following them, which he was. He just needed to do something first. And it was _really _important. And besides, he was always late anyways. Although, maybe he should be on time, considering he was hosting the meeting, but eh. Anyways, he turned around and raced back to the car. He quickly searched the trunk. About a minute later, the white metallic box with the red plus sign on it was in his hands. He opened the lid on the first aid kit and found what he was looking for, gauze. He worked fast; it was only a matter of time until they came here. At the same time he worked carefully, trying to not injure himself further as he wrapped the long bandages around each wrist. Soon, his wrists were bandaged, so that if his jacket sleeve accidentally rolled up, anyone would just see a couple of bandages. Hopefully, that is. America had to hold onto the edge of each piece of gauze to keep them around his wrists. Not a second too soon. What seemed just seconds after finishing up and putting the kit away, America's phone rang. Now, his phone wasn't an IPhone or anything, it was an old flip phone from ages ago. It was so old that America feared he might have to replace it soon. The person on the other side of the line was quickly discovered to be England.

"Where the bloody hell are you!" England snapped. Everybody was waiting for the host to enter. Honestly, England turns around for a split second and –_whoosh_- the boy was gone.

"Bathroom," America immediately lied. In real life, he had already gone inside and was racing up the stairs. "Give me a sec, will ya?" America hung up the device as he rounded the corner to the hall where the room that the World Meeting was taking place in was. He gave himself a minute to catch his breath and walked inside.

Utter chaos was a word anybody who had never been to one of the World Meetings would use. Strangely orderly was what everyone else would call it. America weaved his way up to the podium, taking the notes out of his pocket as he walked. Not like he needed them anyway. America was just going to say something about heroes, like he did every time. He wondered for a fleeting second as he walked, ignored by everyone, if he should just stop researching his topics, what was the point if nobody ever knew, but decided not to. It was still a little interesting, although America personally preferred Sci-Fi, especially dystopia ones, and Realistic Fiction, with a little Fantasy over Nonfiction. Before he knew it, he was standing there, looking at every nation, although none looked at him. America wasn't even sure if anyone realized he had walked in the room. For a second, he felt like Canada, but quickly brushed the feeling off. He tapped once against the microphone, a high pitched shriek emanated from the speakers, and everyone covered their ears. America felt all their eyes on him as he placed a loopy smile on his face and threw on his mask.

"Hey, dudes. What's up?" America started. He heard a bit of laughter at this statement, but pretended he didn't hear it. He could still feel the tips of his ears heating up, though.

"Vhat took you so long?" Germany snapped at him. It didn't really surprise him that the way-too-serious German had immediately jumped on his case for disrupting the orderly schedule, probably the one he had personally made. America pretended to ignore him, once again they were snapping at him for not being on time. Like last time and the time before that and the time before that, basically every time he had come to this stupid meeting. Although it wasn't like he could stay home. Being a superpower, he had to go every time. Even if it meant missing his birthday, which happened so frequently America had to wonder if the other nations even knew he had one. Even if he was so sick he could barely stand, like during the worse of the Great Depression. Even if he got so humiliated he just wanted to crawl up into a corner and cry, which happened almost every single time, because they had to point out his_ every last flaw_. America mentally shook his head; he couldn't think like that, it would only cause his mask to fall off his face.

"Okay, so you know that whole problem with global warming taking over the human race? I think we'll be okay if manufacture a giant hero to defend the planet," America babbled, feigning ignorance.

"I agree with America," Japan immediately responded. It was what he always said.

"You need to start making your _own _decisions, not agreeing with everything America says," Switzerland told him.

"What?" England said breathlessly, but it was not directed to the fight that was about to start between mostly everybody, like Greece and Turkey or Spain and Romano. It was directed to America. England must have been imagining it, right? He had been there; he had seen the other, more intelligent notes. So must have misheard, right? He turned to the person next to him, which was unfortunately France. "I'm only going to ask you this once, you frog. What the bloody hell did America just say?" England threatened.

"Ohonhonhonhonhon, Angleterre, but of course. Amérique just said something about heroes," France said with a chuckle. England was shocked. Why would America write notes if he wasn't going to use them? Why even research the topic if he wasn't going to share anything he had learned. He must have more to share.

"Where's the rest of it?" England asked the nation still standing at the podium, looking dully out at the rest of the meeting.

"Rest of it? There's more-aru?" China asked, befuddled. America wondered why it was suddenly so quiet in the room, hushed whispers being the only noise. He managed to catch a snippet from the person closest to the podium and realized that they were whispering about _him_. America was wishing for his twin's ability to disappear at that moment, he did not like where this was going.

"Vell, I vas about to say that it is England's turn, but zis seems much more interesting. So, show us zey rest of it." Germany ordered.

"Dude, I think there's some kind of mistake. I don't have 'the rest of it'," America said, barely keeping the worry unnoticeable.

"Don't lie, you idiot! I was there when you bloody wrote it!" England roared.

"Ah! England is scary!" Italy shrieked, hiding behind Germany, whose seat was next to him. Strangely, besides England and France, everybody was sitting next to people who they got along well with. And actually Canada and America's chairs separated the two of them, but everyone forgot about the former and the latter was still up at the podium, confusion and a tad of worry on his face, so you could consider the two were sitting together for the moment, at least.

"Did you ever stop and think that maybe that wasn't for this? That maybe it was for, I don't know, a school project or something?" America retaliated, slamming his hands down hard against the stand. He was not nearly as furious as England, but still a little ticked. In his mind, he was making a mental note to start re-saving for college. He had already made it through his first year a few years back, only three more to go.

"Why would you even be going to school?" England teased, or so it seemed to America. Sky blue eyes clouded behind glasses as the owner of both stumbled out of the room; he needed some time alone, somewhere _they _weren't. He knew that they would tease him, insult him like always. But he was the fool for forgetting. And as he raced to find somewhere private to release the pent up tears blurring his vision, he knew he was paying the price. His feet guided him to a closet-like place, one that was quiet. As soon as locked the door, he did one thing he wasn't allowed to do: cry.

**Oh my gosh, done! Excuse me for a second (hugs America). Everyone give America a hug! You must! Today is Hug America Day, no matter when you read this! Anyway, I had such a hard time starting this chapter, I didn't even think it would end like this. Especially cosidering the fact that I broke out in laughter while I was writing most of it. I am now thinking that Italy is hilarious, England needs to learn to understand America better, and America can really read the atmosphere, considering he chose the seating arrangement (it is head cannon that while Germany always ends up writing the schedule, the host gets to choose who sits where). Okay, I think I've done enough rambling... no wait! I forgot to mention something! Listen too Lullaby for a Stormy Night by Vienna Teng. You will fall in love with it immediatly, especially if you first hear it on a stormy night (Like Me!). Now I'm done. See You Soon!**


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

England stared as America –bloody, freaking _America_ – raced out the door. In tears. America _never _cries, not ever. All motion in the room ceases, even for those who were fighting among each other. Everybody's eyes turned to look at him, the cause of the surprise. England doesn't even know what he did to push the youngest nation there over the edge.

"Well, Angleterre, you are going to go after Amérique, _non_?" France asked, breaking the silence that had settled in the still room. England barely heard the words. He was still staring at the door, like by some miracle America would walk back in and laugh about his big prank he had pulled.

"What?" England whispered it to himself, but in the quiet others heard.

"It is your faurt that America-san is crying-" Japan started, but was abruptly cut off by his Axis companion, Germany.

"So you vill make him come back, _understand_? Besides, you know him ze best," The German finished. England got up out of his seat and headed to the door, still in a trance from the previous events. It was a bit of a shock to find something being shoved into his hands.

"Ve, here you go! _Un buon fascino di fortuna_ (A good luck charm)!" Italy said, natural happiness in his voice. England glanced down; in his hands was a white flag. If anyone besides Italy had given it to him, he would've been offended. But a white flag was a great gift since he received it from Italy, especially considering the fact that the Italian was usually running away from him. England gave a light chuckle.

"Thank you. Now I'm _sure _to have excellent luck with convincing America to come back," England thanked, slightest hint of sarcasm only in the second sentence.

"_Sí, bueno suerte_ (Yes, good luck). You are going to need it." Spain added as England walked out the door. He could hear Romano with his usual swearing in three languages yelling at Spain. The farther England walked, the quieter the sounds behind him became, until he was walking in silence. Well, near silence. There was a noise that sounded like sobbing in the –wait, sobbing? England raced, following the noise. Eventually, he stopped in front of a small door. It couldn't have led to anything more than a closet, and for a single instant, England had the thought that it _wasn't _America he had heard. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. No, it couldn't be. If it was, then he wouldn't hear the whimpers from behind the door as well as he did. Somebody was crying behind that door. The first time England attempted to open it, he found he couldn't, because somebody had locked it. After quickly checking to see that no one else was there, England swiftly picked the lock, an old trick he had learned back when he was a privateer. England finally managed to open the door to a sight he wasn't expecting at all.

America was sitting with his knees hugged to his chest, head buried in his arms that were wrapped around his legs. At the sudden light, he looked up. His sky blue eyes had clouded into a stormy blue. Tear stains slid down his cheeks as more poured out. America pathetically tried to wipe the tears away from his just as pathetic spot on the floor. His bandages were probably only hanging on because of all the salt water spilt on them. England fought against two urges deep inside him that were conflicting at the sight. One part of him wanted to kneel down and hug him, like he used to when America was a colony. The other part wanted to just abandon America right there; that's what America did to him, why shouldn't he do it right back. When he saw what was under America's jacket sleeve, the part that wanted to comfort him won, and England kneeled down, so that, for the first time in a long while, they were the same height. Carefully, he pulled the crying nation into a hug.

"There, there," England soothed gently. He gently rubbed the younger's back, singing an old lullaby that he used to sing in times like this, and had a feeling of déjà vu, nostalgia from days long gone. Several minutes later found America's sobs turning into hiccups. And soon those hiccups became silence. England finally pulled away at that point and, grabbing the American by his shoulders, looked him in the eye. "Why were you crying?" England finally said. He still didn't know why America had even started.

"It's stupid," America muttered, struggling not to look his former caretaker in the eye. He could feel a slight blush of embarrassment on his face.

"So is half the things you say at these stupid meetings," England retorted, not noticing the blush. "I think you can trust me."

"I thought I could trust you with my notes, and look how _that_ turned out," America stated, chuckling dryly. England wanted to laugh out loud with relief at this response. _That's _what he had gotten all worked up about? Some silly thing like _that_? England thought he had done something serious.

"Well then, I'm sorry," England said, standing up and offering a hand down to America.

"You don't mean it," America whispered under his breath. It was too quiet for England to hear. Even America could barely hear it. Disregarding his former guardian's hand, America pushed himself to his feet. He walked past England, out into the hall. "C'mon, let's go," he said, gesturing the action. America let the shorter nation pass him. He delayed for only a second, checking how well the bandages were holding up. He grew worried at the fact that they were missing, and prayed luck was on his side as he quickly fell into step next to England. He was about to make some crazy comment, when England cut him off.

"Don't bother," England said, dismissing America before he even got the chance to open his mouth, let alone speak. America briefly wondered how England could notice something like a mask, but not that he had hurt someone. That someone being America, of course. Although maybe England meant that America should focus on pulling himself together instead of what America thought he meant.

"Don't what?" America asked, pretending to be confused.

"Don't do that. Act like you're an idiot. Honestly…" England trailed off. He couldn't decide how he should finish the sentence. _Honestly, I know you better than that _felt like a lie; England knew he didn't _really_ know America since when he was just a little colony. But did he know the figure next to him even back then? England couldn't even begin to imagine where the normal activity became an act, or if it was always just an act, or… England shook his head. He was thinking to hard about it. It could just be nothing. But those marks under America's jacket sleeve proved otherwise. Head spinning with questions that America _was _going to answer truthfully, the duo walked back into the room. Unfortunately, England would have to hope that he could remember them, since their reappearance had caused quite a stir in the room. From the way it looked, it could be considered a miracle that nothing had been broken. Yet. There was always a yet when it came to World Meetings and breaking stuff.

"Ve, you're okay now?" Italy asked, wrapping his atmosphere searching partner up in a hug, which startled the person being hugged slightly.

"Yes," America said, flashing his trademark Hollywood grin. England missed the grin America use to have when he was a colony. That was America's _real _smile. England knew that that grin was a fake, a façade. That's why he hated that grin. He hated it a lot.

**Oh gosh, that was weird to write. I swear, it was so awkward to write this chapter. Anyway, the lullaby is Lullaby for a Stormy Night, because I think that England used to sing something like that to him, escpecially when it was raining and little, cute, colony America got scared. Umm, anyway... I needed to have the other countries speak in their own languages a little. I swear, I had to. And if you can guess at least two of the three languages Romano is swearing in correctly, you get a hug (I like to do these kinds of things for some reason). (Dodges another book) Reader! Didn't I tell you not to throw books at me! It was either you or Person, Reader. But where do you get these books, anyway? (Reader glares and begins to walk away) I'm sorry, I'm just messing with you! Don't leave! One more thing: Marzy, can you read my mind? I swear, I was thinking of something similar to what you said. You must be psychic****. ****BIG ANNOUNCEMENT! AMERICA IS NOW OPEN FOR HUGS! (and I just fixed my caps lock). I don't really have anything to say, besides... I MUST FIND THE ATMOSPHERE WITH ITALY AND AMERICA! Adios, amigos! Ciao! See you soon!**


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The week couldn't go by fast enough for America. Luckily, no more awkward incidents occurred during that time. Still, he could feel wary eyes on him from everywhere. The ones that he noticed the most, though, were England's. America found himself desperately finding excuses so as not to be around those careful green orbs. America was enthusiastic that the week of meetings had finally ended, meaning everybody, especially England, had to go home. America had awoken from the couch and, after grabbing the mail, had prepared a small breakfast for the two of them, making sure to make some tea for England. God only knows how grumpy the Brit gets when he doesn't have his morning cup of tea. Although America could compare, remembering one of his and Canada's fights from a morning where he hadn't had any coffee to wake him up and was extremely grumpy. Just as the kettle was whistling, a groggy England stumbled his way into a chair, rubbing his bleary eyes.

"Morning, sleepyhead," America greeted, placing one of the two plates on the table in front of the sleepy nation. America quickly poured some tea for the elder and chose coffee for himself, before joining the elder at the table. Most the meal was eaten in silence, it was the first time the two had been in the same room together for more than a couple of minutes, outside of meetings of course, in a week. England was the first to speak up, while America was doing the dishes.

"Hmm, I didn't think you were much of a cook," England commented.

"Wha- oh, right. Sorry, my mind's kind of all over the place. Um, yeah, well, I got to eat somehow don't I?" America said, England's comment surprising him some, causing him to almost drop the plate he was holding. "Hey, uh, do you need any help packing?" he quickly blurted out.

"What? Why would I be packing?" England asked, confused.

"Well, the World Meeting is over, and you have a flight to catch and all…" America trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"Oh, I must have forgotten to tell you. Silly me," England said, chuckling lightly as he said it.

"Tell me what?" America replied, extremely confused. Why would England still want to be here? Usually he left early in the morning, sometimes even catching his flight back on the day the meeting ended.

"I have a meeting with your boss in two days. It's about… national matters," England inwardly sighed; he had had quite some difficulty trying to find a way to phrase it so he wasn't technically lying. And he wasn't! England was having a discussion with America's boss about national matters, just… not the actually nation, but the personification. More specifically, the personification of America.

"Dude, what it is, you and France fight and ruin each other's economies or something?" America joked. He was actually pretty curious to what was so important that England a have a meeting with the president. Yes, it was true; America hadn't referred to the president as his boss since that meeting long ago.

"Hah ha," England laughed dryly. "I'll have you know that actually most countries in the EU are having-"

"Economical issues," America finished flatly. "Jesus, I know, I know. You don't need to bring it up."

"I didn't think you would know about that," England replied coolly.

"Why, because I'm too stupid to? I'm one of the freaking world superpowers, I know, okay?" America spat bitterly. He gently shook his head, clearing it of the anger threatening to take over. The last time he had really let it get to him, he had bombed Japan twice with nukes, and the time before that he and Canada had gained a temporary little sister called Confederacy, or South as she liked to be called. America still had the jacket she had worn, tucked away in his storage closet with all of the other things he preferred not to see. "C'mon, let's go. If we hurry, we might be able to make it to DC before dinner."

"Alright, then. I presume I'm driving?" England questioned, thankful for the change in subject. He also was slightly scared at the way the American had changed emotions so quickly.

"If you want. Your car, your call," America answered, shrugging lightly. Not another word was passed between the two as they packed. England, like always, took longer to finish, so America had a couple free minutes on his hands. With nothing better to do, he opened the one letter that had been in his mailbox.

_Alfred F. Jones,_

_Due to budget cuts, you are no longer a working member of McDonalds. Enclosed is your final paycheck._

_McDonalds_

America stood, staring blankly at the piece of paper in front of him. He couldn't be fired, how was he supposed to make a living? This had to be some big, practical joke, right? He desperately searched through the envelope. The only other thing in it was a check. America gulped slightly.

"England?" he squeaked.

"Yes, what is it?" England asked him, concerned at the way his use to be little brother's face had paled as he read the letter.

"Change of plan. Pack everything. We're going to Virginia." England only had a single word to describe how he was feeling as he followed America's instructions for once. It was shock.

**Done! Huzzah! I'm sorry that took so long, I've been having a hard time staying focused on Hetalia recently. America lost his job, uh oh. Give him hugs to make him feel better! Okay, who knows about the two references from real life, single from Hetalia? If you can guess what they are, you get a big hug. Speaking of hugs, StrawberryAvalanche and DanelleSephton, come here (Gives hugs). You two both guessed correctly. Romano was swearing in Spanish, Italian, and English. Although, if your confused about what was under America's sleeve, reread the prologue. Central Dakota, come here now (hugs). I'm glad that you can relate to this story and you don't have to worry about long reviews. If anybody does it's Marzy. I HAD TO GO ONLINE TO READ THE ENTIRE THING IT WAS SO LONG! Don't worry, I'm not mad, just surprised. Hope you have a great summer too. Starfire, don't send Mother Russia after me! Is there anything else... no, I don't think so. Ciao! Happy Summer! **


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Okay, so why are we going to Virginia?" Arthur asked, still startled from the sudden change of plans. The two were on the deck of a ship, the car below them. Alfred had convinced Arthur that taking a ferry would cut off some of the time it would take to get there.

"I told you, Virginia's a lot closer than New York. Besides, it's been awhile since I've been there." Alfred actually wasn't lying, ever since he had gotten a job, he hadn't been able to go there. And Virginia was really close to DC.

"Still, why couldn't we just stay in DC?" Arthur questioned the younger nation.

"Because we can't," Alfred answered, "OK?" Arthur muttered an 'okay' back and instead focused on the water around them. He pretended that he was still a pirate, on his ship, Britannia's Angel, hunting down Antonio and Francis. Arthur smiled at the memories. Until they were interrupted by _someone _that is. "Hey, Artie, I'm gonna go get a drink, want something?"

"My name is Arthur, not Artie. And, no, I do not want something to drink. I am perfectly fine," Arthur said, annoyed.

"Geez, somebody's a grump. You could have just said no, y'know," Alfred muttered as he left. A few minutes later he returned, water bottle in hand. "I bet you still don't know where we're going," Alfred said, smiling. He couldn't wait to surprise Arthur.

"We're going to Virginia," Arthur said, starting to get annoyed again.

"Yeah, but where in Virginia?" Alfred pushed, smirking.

"I don't bloody know, alright!" Arthur roared at him.

"Ok." Not much else happened during the rest of the ride, and it wasn't until the duo had almost reached their destination did things get exciting.

"Okay, turn left here," America directed. "Now pull into this side road here… no! The other side road! England, you're on the wrong side of the road! The right side, get on the right!" He shouted as England started driving on the left side of the road again after pulling a U-turn.

"Alright, Alright, I get it. You don't have to bloody yell so loud," England grumbled as he turned onto the –correct– side road. "Where next?"

"Just turn into this driveway and, we're here," America turned to look at England's face as the Brit parked.

"You- you didn't burn it?" England asked, astonished. It was the same house that he and America lived in back when America was a colony. England had convinced himself that it had been burnt down to the ground.

"Nope. In fact, I've even touched it up some," America said, smiling.

"How come I didn't know about this?" England questioned him, still staring at the building in front of them.

"If it makes you feel better, the only people who know about this place is you, me, Canada, Lithuania, and Russia."

"Wait, Lithuania? Russia? Why would they know about this place?" England asked, finally tearing his gaze off of the house and instead stared at America.

"You don't remember? You were there when Lithuania asked if I was hiring. I lived here at the time. Russia only knows because during the 30's, he said I wasn't fit to take care of Lithuania and carried him away," America explained.

"But why didn't Russia tell anybody? It seems like something he would spread and use as an advantage, especially during the Cold War. Everybody thinks you live in New York." England wondered aloud, confused. If he had that info, he would use it as dirt.

"Well, during the Cold War, I did live in New York. Been living there for a while now. Like I said earlier, I haven't been to Virginia in a long time. As far as secrecy goes, though, we made a simple deal. I would let come and see the sunflowers and stuff whenever he want as long as he doesn't let anybody know about this place. He agreed. Not everybody's like you y'know," America answered. He picked up most of the luggage, and started heading to the door. "You coming?" he called over his shoulder. England nodded and followed, carrying the two bags that were left. Once inside, though, England stopped and stared.

"It- It looks just like I remember it," England stated.

"So you don't need a tour then?" America joked.

"Yes, I don't need a tour," England responded, rolling his eyes. "So, um where do I-"

"Guest room," America answered, not giving him time to finish the sentence. "Matches are in the kitchen cabinet with the candles, just in case."

"Just in case what?" England asked.

"Just in case the power's out, duh," America responded, walking away and leaving England in the dark, literally. Unfortunately, England had forgotten where the kitchen was.

"America?" England called out. The only answer was the slamming of the door behind him, engulfing him in darkness.

**Hello, peoples! I know this chapters not as long as the others. Before I begin my rant, there was a Hetalia reference in this chapter. I'll give a couple hints this time. 1. It was in the manga, not the anime. 2. It is in a side comic, not a volume (as far as I know). 3. It had to do with Lithuania. Okay, rant time. For all of you people reading this who are American, you should be ashamed of yourselves (not really, but I'm trying to rant like Iggy)! The real life references were moments in American history! I'll even quote where I mentioned them, just to prove it! Reference 1: "...he had bombed Japan twice with nukes". WORLD WAR 2. After Pearl Harbor, America nuked Japan twice. Reference 2: "...he and Canada had gained a temporary little sister called Confederacy, or South as she liked to be called." THE CIVIL WAR! Honestly, Confederacy? I think I made it obvious enough. History Lesson: During the Civil War, America was divided into the Union and the Confederacy, or the North and South. As for the Hetalia reference, it was the episode "America's Storage Closet", which took place in the house in Virginia. Okay, rant's over. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Sorry this note was long. Ciao!**


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Unable to see, England walked in the direction that he thought the kitchen was in. Unfortunately, the place was still messy from the last time America had been there. It didn't help that there was mildew or mold or something on certain parts of the wall. England suddenly tripped and stumbled into a room. He fell onto the floor, where he began to nurse his injured toe.

"Alright try the lights now!" America's echoed to where England sat. Rising, he searched the walls for a switch, but came up with nothing.

"Must have a pull switch," England muttered to himself, reaching above to find where the string was. Privately, England was grateful for the darkness, because he'd hate if anyone could see the embarrassing position he was in. Finally, his hand brushed the thin rope and, and he yanked. A soft, bluish filled the room. It seemed to be an attic of sorts, with ancient-looking items placed around the room, most covered with a cloth. England also noticed the spiraling staircase in the corner, signaling that there was more. Only a tad curious about the room and more wondering where in the house he was, England began to leave. That was, until he noticed a wooden doll out of the corner of his eye. Surprised, he carefully picked it up. With fading paint, it looked like one of the dolls England had given America when the latter was a colony. England thought that America had destroyed the dolls with the house. But then again, America was a very surprising person, wasn't he. As England walked down memory lane, he didn't notice the soft footsteps approaching his location. He didn't even notice the presence of the other person until a gently laugh met his ears.

"Nice going, old man, you found my storage closet. But you do know that the kitchen is in the other direction, right?" America asked.

"Wha- yeah! I… I was merely confused because of the darkness, that's all," England covered, before processing the rest of the American's statement. "I am not old!" he shouted at America.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever Iggy. So, I take it you can find your way around now that the lights are on?" America asked, giving England an I-don't-believe-you look. To be honest, England didn't have a clue where he was, but he wanted to delay admitting it for as long as possible. So he changed the subject.

"Speaking of that, how come the lights are on? I wouldn't think that you'd pay an electric bill for a house you don't live in," England questioned.

"You really don't know? I thought you were smarter than that, Iggy," America said, surprised. He thought it was pretty obvious.

"For the last bloody time, my name is England, not Iggy!" England shouted. "What do you mean, you thought I was smarter?" he asked, calming down.

"The place is hydro powered by the stream out back. I thought it would be obvious with the mold and stuff," America stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Now do want that tour now, or when you fall up the stairs to the attic and say you were looking for the basement?" he asked. England gave a reluctant 'yes' and the duo was off. But not before England had memorized the location of the storage room, that is. He had a lot of investigating to do.

**Done! As you can tell, this was a really short chapter. It alos took awhile. I have an excuse. I've been rewatching Darkwing Duck (which takes awhile to watch, considering there's like 90 something episodes, literally) and Wild West C.O.W.-Boys of Moo Mesa (tell me if you've seen them and who your favorite was in the show(s)!), and have been having issues keeping myself comepletly focused on Hetalia. Marzy, come here (Gives Hug). Only somebody who had read the comic strip Lithuinia's Outsourcing series would have commented on the fact that I didn't have Russia call Lithuinnia his ex. I have nothing else to say. Ciao!**


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

America swiftly gave a tour of the building, only skipping one room. When they passed the room and America didn't give a quick explanation, not even looking at the door once before passing, England became confused. He tried to open it, but found the sturdy wood door locked.

"Hey America, care to explain what's behind this?" England called out, gesturing to the door in question.

"Nothing," America said sadly, "just some old things of my mother's." England practically did a double take. America had a mum? No country had a mum or pa, so this was quite a shocker.

"What was your mum's name?" England asked.

"Native America," the younger nation answered. _Now_ England did a double take.

"Honestly, is today 'Surprise England with shocking information until he dies of a heart attack' Day? What's next, you turn out to be gay?" England grumped, but if one were to pay close attention, one would notice the smile that crossed his face for a split second while he said it. America cracked a grin too as he replied.

"I actually am feeling very gay right now," America smirked, "but I hope you don't mistake me for being strange to have such joy rushing through my body at the moment." America meant every word of it. He hadn't felt as happy as he did now since… well, he couldn't put his finger on the time exactly, but he had felt very happy whenever it was. England couldn't help but chuckle, wondering when the meaning of the word changed so dramatically. Still smiling like fools, the duo walked back to the kitchen, where America began to get ready to go out so he could get ready to get something to cook with, before England stopped him.

"Alright, since it's your mum's room, I won't pry. But I am cooking tonight." America began to protest, but the elder nation cut him off. "I don't want to hear any 'if', 'ands', or 'buts', I am cooking and that's final, understand?" England looked America straight in the eye and at that point, America knew that resistance was futile. But that didn't mean that he couldn't try.

"It's no use, Iggy. If you go out there now, then all the people who have died because of your cooking will get you, to save the world. In fact, I think I'm about to join them," America did a mock death before standing up and walking towards England like a zombie. "Must stop Iggy. Must stop Iggy."

"Oh, shut up, you git. My cooking's perfectly fine and you know it. Besides, you've got a stomach of steel. And don't call me Iggy!" Iggy said, annoyed at the childish behavior being displayed. "Come along Flying Mint Bunny, let's go." England walked out the door and started the car, driving towards the nearest town he had seen.

"Ok, but don't blame me if you end up dead!" America called out after him. He ate England's food as a kid; he could deal with it now. How bad could it be?

Apparently, it could be very, very bad. England had tried to make pasta. And by 'tried' I mean, he put a ton of random spices in, mixed some spaghetti and Ramon noodles in a lasagna pan, and baked it for 30 minutes. All the while talking to Flying Mint Bunny, mind you. America faked a stomachache, which wasn't very hard, and excused himself, trying his hardest to look like he was really sad about not being able to eat the…. Umm… Food? Yeah, the food, that England made. Having helped his guest unpack earlier, he went to bed, still feeling slightly joyous.

**Gay: ****_adj. _****Having or showing a merry, lively mood: gay spirits, gay music. Synonyms: Cheerful, gleeful, glad, lighthearted, ect. Antonyms: serious, grave, solemn, joyless, ect.**

**Okay, here is chapter 17! Before people get on my case about "Why haven't you posted in over a month!" I have a big announcement to make. I'm... not into Hetalia anymore. I haven't been for a while. Right now, I'm more into things like Darkwing Duck and Sonic (both of which I've written stories for). This does not mean that the story is going to be discontinued, what it does mean is that I need a way to quickly wrap this up (honestly, who wants to read the writing of a person who isn't into the series?) without romance. I have tried my hardest to put no romance in this story, and I want to keep that trend. I will take suggestions on how to end this though. Again, sorry for how long this chapter took. Review time! Daffodil, you're right, England is a very snoopy fellow. Strawberry, the reason he didn't live in this house is because I'm the author and I said so (Actually, I was trying to keep canon). Silverheart,(gives hug) besides Aladdin and The Little Mermaid (I haven't seen the cartoon vesion, I only have the movies, but I like those) I agree with you about all of those shows. By the by, tell me who you're favorite characters were or you're CHEMISTRY! Wait, I mean Math, no, PE, no History! Or you're history! I bet this went over most people's heads. Raise your hand and say the episode name if it didn't. Marzy, the storage room episodes took place in the house they are in now, because if you look around at the enviroment, you'll find you will not be in the city, but a sort of forest. While recent episodes do take place in the apartment, the storage room ones do not. I hope that helped you to understand a little bit more. That's it, so I'm gonna go now. Adios Amigos (or Amigas)! Ciao!**


	19. Epilouge

Epilogue

The meeting had been long and boring, but England had done it. The president finally knew who America was, and was happy about that. America had found it difficult to adjust immediately, but was soon perfectly fine. England still frequently visited, along with Canada, to check up on him, though. The trio decided to keep almost everything between them. The one thing they shared with the other countries: America's birthday. No more, would it be ignored, and some countries even had fun designing and attending a surprise party. Even some of the countries that often got annoyed with the young nation came and had a blast. America eventually turned back into a more natural goofball. You know, the one who likes to comment on the little details, which can cause many people to laugh.

Anyway, America and England frequently visited each other, and other countries such as France began to think the two were in a relationship. They were right, of course, but used the term relationship as a romantic one, which would be untrue. It had taken over 300 years, but finally America and England considered one another as family again. There was still the occasional bickering about silly things like what words to use where, but that had been solved by Canada, who said that if you were in America, you speak like an American, if you were in England, you speak like an Englishman.

So did anyone really get what it was like to be the hero? Well, the answer is no. Not even America knew. He tried to though, and that's what counts. And in some ways, to some people, he was a hero. So if you ever think that nobody cares, just remember, that to somebody, you're a real live hero.

**Done, people. I just want to say thanks to all of you guys who managed to stick with this story. I love you all (Well, everybody except the guy who keeps throwing books at my head. Just kidding, I love you too!). I actually need to ask a favor of you though. I started writing a new story (The Last Story) and I need some criticism (and love!). Sorry if I sound demanding. I never thought I would be saying this but... Ciao, per ora e per sempre. (Goodbye for now and forever.)**


End file.
